


Enough Spoons for Jam

by MeloAnnechen



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Jam Wars, M/M, Mentions of Ableism, Mentions of Chronic Illness, Mentions of homophobia, mentions of bullying, mentions of food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 09:01:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11078334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeloAnnechen/pseuds/MeloAnnechen
Summary: You didn't think there is only one person per family online, did you?





	Enough Spoons for Jam

**Author's Note:**

> [Check, Please!](http://checkpleasecomic.com/) is the webcomic by Ngozi Ukazu, also seen on [tumblr](http://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com/). This story is not approved by, sponsored by or affiliated with M~ Ukazu.

It all started with a new comment on an old post just after Christmas his junior year.

Eric got the notification while he was waiting for his flight to Providence. He usually didn’t get comments after a video had been up for a few months, so when someone commented on an old post, it usually meant they had just found his channel. It was a habit to check those comments to see if they had questions.

> “Here from _enufSpoons_ , and thank you so much for explaining why I was having problems with my meringues. Hope you and your team have a great season!”

The name of the other channel 1was vaguely familiar; it teased his memory about a similar comment. His prior attempt to find the other vlog had been half-assed, but it was around midterms last fall, so he had dropped it because he needed to get a paper done and to his professor before the roadie to Notre Dame. He had forgotten his search for the other vlogger, but he was not about to try again while he was on his phone with Hartsfield-Jackson’s currently slow and usually unsecure wi-fi. He set a reminder to look for the other vlogger for the next day, during Jack’s morning skate.

***

After breakfast, seeing Jack off to practice, showering a second time that morning, and cleaning the kitchen, Eric settled in with his laptop. His first few searches were redirects to chronic illness sites, before he tried adding “recipe” to his search. Then he figured out why he had not found the vlogger before.

It wasn’t a vlog.

It was a blog, and an old one at that. The sidebar bio was vague, listing the blogger as “Southern, female, and older than you”, which gave him a chuckle. A quick run through the recipes confirmed the “Southern” portion of the description, as they were familiar to him. He frowned, as he realized some of them were _very_ familiar. He started reading the story portions of the blog, and he was struck by how he knew how a few of them turned out.

Reading back through the full entries, Eric had a slow sense of dread creeping up on him. There was an entry last summer about introducing Northerners to Southern traditions, and one the Christmas before about shortcuts in making… homemade jam.

 _No need to panic_ , he told himself. _It could be another woman from northern Georgia who has a long-term argument with her family about jams and preserves._

As he skipped back through the posts, there were a lot of mentions of shortcuts, and arguing with traditionalists, but every time they were mentioned, the blogger did not mention saving time or money, but saving spoons. Eric frowned at the mention, trying to figure out what that meant until he reached an entry in late spring of his freshman year. It started off with an apology.

>   
>  _Sorry I’ve not kept to my schedule of a new recipe a week, but things have gotten difficult for me. For years, I’ve been struggling to keep things going with family, church, and work, with not a lot of support. I recently was diagnosed with chronic fatigue syndrome. Having a diagnosis gives me a direction to go, but at the same time, it sounds innocuous to others. “So you’re tired, have a cup of coffee, you can nap later.” It just does not work that way. I’ve got limited resources to spend on projects, and not everyone sees it that way. My doctor referred me to Christine Miserandino’s essay on[The Spoon Theory](https://butyoudontlooksick.com/articles/written-by-christine/the-spoon-theory/) to help explain the problem of chronic illness and limited activities._
> 
> _You might have noticed the name change, and this is the reason. I’ll be going back through my recipes, and share what works for me, and if anyone out there has other tips, I’ll be glad to share them. I’m not totally abandoning my family recipes, because there are some days I want the comfort of the familiar. The problem is those can be the same days I just can’t give them the effort they usually need. They really are lovely recipes, and if you have the time and energy to do it the old-fashioned way, I recommend omgcheckplease’s videos, because he has a talent for baking and teaching._

Eric sat back at stared at the screen. He remembered the pot luck where the pastor’s wife had said that exact phrase about getting a nap later to Aunt Judy. Mama had been pointedly chilly to Mrs. Hastings since then, too. He didn’t remember hearing about Aunt Judy getting a diagnosis of CFS, and checked the date of the post. It was just a week after his concussion, when he had to take a couple of months off his vlog as well.

He then got a thrill of fear down his spine. If this was Aunt Judy’s blog, had she seen his videos without the recipes?

He quickly checked for posts in November, but there wasn’t anything about his complaints about Ransom and Holster trying to set him up with girls for Winter Screw. There were still links to his vlog every couple of posts, but not anything that would clue him in to if she saw his video about coming out to his teammates. 

Then, in the middle of June after his freshman year, there was a recipe for Chantilly Cake. The picture wasn’t the usual strawberry and blueberry red-white-and-blue theme she usually did for Independence Day.

Seven layers, and in between each layer of sponge cake was a different color of preserves, with candied pink rose petals on top. 

> _This is not my mother’s recipe for Chantilly Cake. But it is a family recipe, now. Someone I care about very much has come out to his friends, and I only know about it because he talks about it online. I know why he hasn’t told everyone. This area is not kind to those who do not conform to their traditional roles. He’s been abused by classmates in the past, and the problem was ignored by his school at the time. I mean, things have gotten better since I was in college, when our friends were dying and we couldn’t mourn them openly at home. But I have to be honest, it hasn’t gotten good enough. I know why he stays silent._
> 
> _I’ve been told that we have to wait for him to come to us. I’ve been patient, and I understand, because everyone takes their own journey. That doesn’t mean I can’t practice making him a cake. The colors are based on the current LGBTQA+ flag, mostly because I don’t have a jam flavor that comes out turquoise and is still edible…._

Jack came home to find Eric him silently crying at his computer. 

“Bits? What happened, bud?” He asked as he scanned the screen.

“I think Aunt Judy knows about me.”

“Think?”

“I mean, the blog is written like she talks, and the recipes are mostly like the ones Moomaw taught me… I just - if this is my Aunt Judy’s blog, she knows, and if it isn’t,” Eric gave a sad little giggle, “I want to adopt her.”

Jack rubbed Eric’s back, “Okay, so how likely is it she will say it’s hers if you ask?”

He sighed and leaned into Jack’s shoulder, “It looks like she’s just being cautious about her identity around strangers, not completely hiding, but making sure she’s being safe.” Eric took a deep breath and grabbed his phone, quickly scrolling to his Aunt Judy’s number. 

She picked up before he could change his mind about the call. “Dicky? How is everything up there at school?”

“Oh, just fine Aunt Judy. Is this a good time?”

“Of course, sweetie! What do you need?” her voice sounded as strong as ever, and Eric had a moment of doubt.

“Um, I was just checking on some recipes online, and I… ran across a blog I wanted ask you about.” 

“Did you find enufSpoons? Because that one’s mine.”

Eric whispered, “Really?” 

“Yup.” She waited a few moments before asking, “Are you okay?”

“Yes’m, and… I found the Chantilly Cake recipe.”

“Did you like it?”

“Yes, ma’am. I… I’m sorry I’ve been so mean about shortcuts in my vlog.”

“Dicky,” she sighed, “I haven’t told a lot of folks about my diagnosis.”

“And I haven’t told a lot of folks that I’m gay. That doesn’t make it okay for me to be ableist.”

She gave a soft laugh, “Well, now you know, so what are you going to do?”

“Well, for one thing, I’m going to quit telling everyone it’s easy to do something just because it’s easy for me.” He sighed, “but I don’t think I’m ready to tell my folks, yet.”

“I understand, sweetie. When you’re ready, give me a day’s notice so I can get the cake done.”

Eric giggled, “Okay, Aunt Judy, and thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday, Gilbert Baker.


End file.
